Believe
by rainlettuce
Summary: Harry believes in Santa Claus. After being caught by Dudley writing a letter to Santa, who threatens to tell Uncle Vernon, will Harry continue to believe?


Dear Santa Claus,

I have been a very good boy this year.  
I would like a red bike for Christmas.  
I know that you are busy up at the North Pole.  
But if you can, please bring me one.

From Harry Potter.

Harry had just signed his name at the bottom of the page when his spiral notebook was snatched off his lap. Flanked by his gang, Dudley Dursley stood in front of Harry, the spiral notebook in his fat hand. Immediately Harry jumped to his feet. If Dudley read the letter, if he knew to whom it was addressed, he would tell Uncle Vernon the second he got home from work. Uncle Vernon, who frowned upon such imagination, would beat the belief Harry had for Santa right out of him; lock him in his cupboard until next Christmas.

"Give it back, Dudley!" yelled Harry, making a grab for the spiral notebook.

But Dudley, who was a lot bigger than Harry, held it out of arm's reach. Harry watched, horrified, as Dudley read the letter. (Could he even read?) When he'd finished, he snorted like a pig and handed the spiral notebook off to one of his friends to read.

"Santa Claus is not real, stupid," said Dudley.

"He is too," Harry said.

Dudley and his gang laughed loudly. Harry, whose cheeks were already rosy from the cold, felt his face go red. Dudley grabbed the front of Harry's four sizes too big ugly red coat, their noses almost touching.

"Only little kids believe in Santa Claus," Dudley whispered menacingly, "I'm gonna show it to Dad, then you'll really be in trouble."

Dudley shoved Harry away. Harry landed on the pavement, hard. Unable to do anything, Harry sat there, watching as Dudley ripped the letter to Santa out of the spiral notebook, and shoved it into the pocket of his coat. He tossed the spiral notebook onto the ground, and he and his gang walked away.

Harry was in trouble now. He knew once Uncle Vernon saw the letter he'd be yelled at; punished. He couldn't get the letter back. And it wouldn't do any good begging Dudley not to tell because he'd do it anyway. He loved watching Uncle Vernon bully Harry. But how could Harry have been so stupid? For years he'd kept his belief in Santa Claus a secret. He'd never written a letter to Santa; never mentioned wanting to stay up late on Christmas eve to catch a glimpse of the jolly old man; never stared in awe and wonderment at the Santa Claus in the shopping center the few times he was allowed to go Christmas shopping with the Dursleys.

But for some reason the need to write Santa a letter had been strong. Strong enough for Harry to actually do it during break at school. Perhaps he thought that was the best time to do it since he had no friends and usually spent break sat alone on the pavement on the far side of the playground and, aside from Dudley and his gang occasionally chasing him, everyone ignored him. He'd planned to somehow send it off to Santa without either Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon knowing.

Harry dreaded the end of the school day and the ire of Uncle Vernon that waited him.

Good on his word, the second Uncle Vernon walked through the front door that evening, Dudley was there in an instant to greet him with Harry's letter to Santa in hand. Harry, who was in the kitchen finishing dinner, braced himself.

"Boy!" roared Uncle Vernon.

Harry put the sauce for the spaghetti on simmer before walking into the hall. Uncle Vernon was still in his car coat, Harry's letter to Santa in his fist, glaring. Dudley stood next to him, a smug look on his face. Harry stayed out of arms reach, in case Uncle Vernon decided to strangle him right there.

"So," said Uncle Vernon, "Dudley just told me you believe in Santa Claus. Do you, boy?"

Harry said nothing, which wasn't the best option because Uncle Vernon's face started to turn purple. Uncle Vernon glanced at the letter.

"You've been a very good boy this year, have you?" Uncle Vernon continued as Dudley sniggered.

He was better behaved than Dudley, Harry would have loved to have said. But instead he said, "yes, sir."

Uncle Vernon gave him a disbelieving look. In his and Aunt Petunia's eye, Harry was not a well behaved child. While Dudley could do no harm, Harry was regarded as a troublemaker; a burden to them.

"And you would like a red bike for Christmas?"

"Yes, sir."

Harry had been jealous when Dudley had received a new red bike for his birthday. He wanted a similar one. He figured the only way he would get one was to write to Santa Claus since he knew Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would never buy him such an expensive gift. But now he wished he hadn't written the letter. The red bike didn't seem to matter anymore.

"Well, I've got news for you, boy," Uncle Vernon said, crumpling Harry's letter to Santa into a ball, "you're not getting a red bike for Christmas. Santa Claus isn't real. I don't want to hear about this again, you understand?"

"But he is real," Harry mumbled.

"What did you just say?" snarled Uncle Vernon.

Feeling a rare sudden moment of bravery and defiance, Harry said a bit louder, "Santa Claus is real. He's magical and j - "

Smack!

Harry stumbled into the wall, his cheek stinging. Uncle Vernon was there, his face a deep purple, breathing like a wild rhinoceros. Dudley looked on with angry in his eyes. Harry fumbled out an apology that went ignored. Uncle Vernon grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair, putting his face close to Harry's.

"What have I told you about saying that word in my house, boy?!" Uncle Vernon said through gritted teeth.

"I-I'm sorry!" said Harry.

"Never say it again. Never mention Santa Claus again."

Uncle Vernon dragged Harry by the hair over to the cupboard and shoved him inside. He heard the lock sliding into place; Uncle Vernon stomping up the stairs, perhaps to inform Aunt Petunia of this, and Dudley, undoubtedly, went to the living room to watch one of his many favorite television programs. How long would Harry be in the cupboard this time? Would he be deprived of dinner tonight?

Harry didn't bother turning on his light. He just wanted to lay curled on his bed. Santa Claus was real, no matter what Uncle Vernon said. He believed it with all of his heart. There was something magical about him. And one Christmas he would bring Harry loads of expensive gifts while bringing Dudley nothing but coal.

(A/N: this could have been a bit better. after procrastinating on it all month, I spent the night writing it. hope you liked it. leave a review if you want. merry Christmas and happy holidays to you.)


End file.
